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The forest of Celestia stretched out like a vast cloak of mystery beneath the twilight sky. The last rays of the sun filtered their golden light through the canopy of ancient trees, whose twisted trunks seemed to whisper immemorial secrets to the wind. The air smelled of damp moss and fresh pine, and the ground was covered with a carpet of dry leaves and wildflowers that swayed gently with each breath of breeze. Somewhere in the distance, the murmur of a stream intertwined with the song of night birds, creating a natural symphony that filled the atmosphere with ethereal beauty.
"Tristan, where are you? Please don't hide from me," Melibeth pleaded as she ran desperately among the trees, pushing aside low branches with her hands and feeling the thorns lightly scratch her skin. Her breathing was heavy, and her jet-black hair became even more disheveled with each hurried step. Her emerald eyes, bright but clouded with worry, scanned every corner of the forest, searching for the huge white wolf whose presence had always been so comforting to her.
Melibeth paused for a moment, leaning against a lichen-covered tree trunk to catch her breath. Frustration began to show on her face, drawing a grimace of helplessness on her lips.
"Come on, Tristan, don't hide from me!" she exclaimed, raising her voice to the vastness of the forest, even though she knew that no one but him could hear her.
As she walked on, her mind returned to that fateful day when Tristan had said the words that still echoed in her heart like a painful refrain: "Listen carefully, for your sake and mine, it is better that we never see each other again. Creatures of light and shadow are not compatible; your light will seek to purify me and extinguish my existence."
Melibeth shook her head, trying to push those memories away, but it was impossible. That day had marked a turning point in her life. Despite everything, she couldn't help feeling that her friendship with Tristan was something deeper than simple differences in nature. How can something as pure as our connection be considered a danger? she thought as she continued her search.
From a distance, hidden in the shadows cast by the trees, Tristan watched the girl's every move intently. His snow-white fur glowed faintly in the dim light, and his amber, almost golden eyes reflected a mixture of tenderness and inner conflict. He had been following her for several minutes, making sure to remain out of sight. Every time he saw the glint of determination in Melibeth's eyes, he felt a knot in his chest. He knew he should stay away, but his protective instinct drove him to watch over her, to make sure she was safe.
Finally, Melibeth gave up. Exhausted, she collapsed onto a large moss-covered rock, sighing deeply. With her arms crossed over her knees and her head bowed, she looked like a small figure lost in the immensity of the forest.
"Tristan, don't be like that. I ran away from home just to see you for a moment," she said with a reproachful tone, though her lips trembled slightly, revealing the vulnerability she was trying to hide.
As if he had heard her silent plea, Tristan slowly emerged from the bushes. His paws made hardly any noise as he walked on the carpet of leaves, and his majestic figure seemed to blend into the darkness of the forest. He approached her cautiously, until he was close enough to tilt his head and give her cheeks a few gentle licks, wiping away the tears that had begun to fall.
"Here I am, little crybaby," he replied in a deep, calm voice that echoed in Melibeth's mind, as if the words were carried by the very air of the forest.
The young woman looked up, meeting those amber eyes she knew so well and which now seemed laden with unfathomable melancholy. Yet there was something else: a spark of affection that even he could not hide.
"Why were you hiding from me, Tristan? Are you still mad at me? I thought it was a joke, what you said to me the last time I saw you," she asked, trying to keep her tone firm, though her voice trembled slightly.
Melibeth's sadness was evident. Her emerald eyes, crystal clear from restrained tears, reflected a mixture of confusion and despair. Her head remained bowed, resting on her knees, while her arms hugged her legs tightly, as if she wanted to protect herself from something invisible but oppressive. She clearly remembered the last time she had seen her wolf friend: that day when he had told her they could no longer meet, that he was a being of darkness and shadows, and she was a being of light that radiated purity. Although she had not yet reached full maturity, once that happened, her own light would purify him, extinguishing him forever.
"Little Melibeth, everything I said was true. Our friendship cannot be, and I've already explained why. Give up and get on with your life," Tristan replied in a serious tone, though inside he felt that every word was tearing him apart.
Melibeth shook her head, refusing to accept what he was saying. She rose slowly, facing him with a mixture of courage and despair.
"I can't…" she said in a thin voice, almost a whisper laden with restrained emotion. "Or rather, I don't want to. Besides, I don't understand what you're saying, Tristan. I'm just a human. What light or magic could a human have?"
Her eyes searched his, hoping to find some answer, some sign of hope. But Tristan remained silent, his gaze fixed on her, as if he were fighting with himself not to say anything more.
"Just forget you ever knew me," was the last thing he said before turning and disappearing into the trees, leaving Melibeth alone in the clearing.
She stood frozen, watching his figure vanish into the forest's darkness. A mixture of confusion and anger grew inside her, but what she felt most was an immense emptiness, as if a part of herself had gone with Tristan.
The wind began to blow harder, rustling the leaves and bringing with it a cold that seemed to pierce her soul. Melibeth closed her eyes for a moment, letting the tears flow freely, while the forest of Celestia remained a silent witness to her pain.
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Dawn came slowly, filtering through the dense trees of the forest surrounding the small, humble cabin where Melibeth lived. The wooden walls, worn by the years and covered with moss, seemed to sigh under the weight of time. Inside, the atmosphere was cold and damp, as if the forest itself had seeped into every corner. The thatched roof creaked in the morning wind, and the air smelled of wet earth and dry leaves.
Melibeth woke up agitated, as she had every night for the past three years. Her trembling body rose heavily from the cushion that served as her bed, covered only by threadbare blankets that no longer managed to keep her warm. Outside, the distant song of a nightingale broke the silence of the forest, but inside, everything was oppressively still. It had been three years since Tristan stopped coming, and since then, every day had been a struggle against fatigue, weakness, and a pain that no remedy could ease.
"I fell in love with a wolf," she whispered softly, barely audible above the murmur of the wind seeping through the cracks in the cabin, "and sadly, my love was not reciprocated. That rejection broke my heart. At the time, I didn't understand; I was just a child. Now I know that those feelings of joy when I saw Tristan… were love."
Her words floated in the air, lost among the dark wooden beams that supported the low ceiling. The only light came from an almost consumed candle, whose flame flickered unsteadily, casting shadows on the bare walls. Melibeth wrapped herself in an old blanket, feeling the morning chill cling to her skin like a second layer. From her window, a small rectangular opening covered with a piece of thick cloth, she could see the first rays of sunlight trying to break through the tall trunks and intertwined branches of the forest. In the distance, barely visible among the trees, she could make out the faint mist that always enveloped the gypsy village, so close and yet so distant to her.
She had read old books, gifts from Azalea, the village fortune teller. She knew that Tristan felt the same way she did about him, but that had not been enough for him. He had forbidden her any closeness, leaving her with unanswered questions. What had he meant to tell her? Why talk about being a "creature of light"? Melibeth didn't understand any of it. She wasn't a magical creature; she didn't belong to Tristan's world, but something inside her told her that his words hid a truth she couldn't yet comprehend.
"What did he mean? Gods, I didn't understand a thing," she murmured in frustration, running a trembling hand over her face. Her mind was a maze of confused thoughts, like blurred paths in the fog. She struggled to her feet, dragging her bare feet across the compact earthen floor, and walked toward the cabin door. She opened it slowly, letting the cool forest air envelop her. Outside, the world was beginning to wake up: birds were singing, leaves were rustling in the wind, and the sweet scent of wildflowers mixed with morning dew filled the air.
She leaned her head against the rough wooden frame and looked up at the sky, where the gray clouds were beginning to dissipate, giving way to a faint golden glow. As she did every morning, she hoped that this light, which slowly dispelled the shadows of the forest, would also illuminate her mind, revealing the hidden meaning behind Tristan's words. But, as always, she found only silence.
⋯ ❈ ⋯
"Lluvia, have you taken Melibeth's breakfast yet, dear?"
"No, honey, it's not ready yet. I'm just making the jasmine tea and then it will be ready. You know our girl loves tea," she replied. "Gastón, are you still worried about Bastián leaving for Aldremir? Honey, remember that our boy was going to leave with or without our permission," said Lluvia, caressing his left cheek and putting a piece of bread in his mouth. She had noticed that her partner had been tense since Bastián's departure.
"Lluvia, I have to tell you something," he sighed resignedly. "There have been rumors in the village that Eriol has plans to take the throne from King Darius. You know what that means, woman."
She didn't believe what her partner was saying. If it were true, it was very bad news. If Gastón's words were true, their days in the village were numbered.
Gastón saw the fear in his wife's eyes and realized that telling her the news had not been a good idea. Lluvia trembled slightly in the gypsy's arms, fear taking control of her—and how could it not? Eriol had been her jailer for so long. Just remembering it brought tears to her eyes, wanting to release all the pain it had caused.
"But King Darius has no heir to the throne?!" argued the gypsy woman, pale with shock at the news. "If Eriol takes Alkarya into his hands, this nation will perish."
"Lluvia, it's just gossip, woman, maybe just rumors," he objected, trying to calm his nervous companion.
"Arnaid, I just want my children by our side, and to go far away from Alkarya—if possible to another nation, or even further, to another continent. He can't know I'm alive. I… I should have left this damn kingdom…"
"Rosella," he called the woman by her real name, just as she had done with him, "I know you're afraid. I'm afraid too, my dear. That's why I asked you to use magic. We need to get our Melody and go far, far away, just like we did many years ago."
"Who are Rosella and Arnaid? What magic are you talking about? Where is my sister Melody?" argued Melibeth. More than a question, it was a demand. Today she felt strong and was fed up and tired of the bed. She wanted to surprise her parents, but she was the one who got the surprise when she overheard their conversation.
Gastón and Lluvia were stunned to see their daughter standing. They felt cornered; there was no escape. The truth had to prevail. They looked each other in the eyes and nodded, agreeing to finally tell their daughter the truth. Perhaps this was a sign from fate to find Melodía, Melibeth's twin, because they also planned to reveal her true identity as a fairy.
The girl left again, leaving her parents distressed.
"Go with our daughter, talk to her before she starts imagining things that aren't true."
"That's right," replied Lluvia, following the girl.
Once alone, the gypsy shook his head, running his hands through his dark hair and messing up his locks in frustration. The future and peace of his family hung in the balance, but aristocracy and magic were matters he had little control over. He heard his companion's cry asking him to hurry—Melibeth had fainted. Without thinking twice, the former soldier went with Lluvia to help his daughter.